(Hour 13 of 24) “My own swan lake”

As a young boy, my earliest memories,

were of feeding the swans at the lake,

with father, mother, and me,

Those croutons I cast away with wanton abandon,

flinging far and wide without a care in the world.

 

As an adult, I returned again to my swan lake,

not to feed them, but to contemplate.

Orphaned too early,

had to grow up in a hurry,

innocence curtailed; experience inevitable.

 

Alone now as I ever was,

I revert to childhood pleasures.

Diminished in body, but a mind still with purpose,

I serve my swans again.

with a child’s delight.

 

© 2021 S Phua

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